


mission success

by serpentkinglink



Series: tumblr fills [3]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Blood and Injury, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Link is a Hacker, M/M, Near Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rhett is a Spy, Stevie is their boss, genre typical violence, mortal peril
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:48:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21555745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serpentkinglink/pseuds/serpentkinglink
Summary: Rhett's a spy, Link's a computer genius. They’ve made something of a name for themselves in the espionage world: Rhett and Link, an unstoppable duo, bringing down syndicates all over the world and making it look easy.Except this time, the mission does not go according to plan.
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Series: tumblr fills [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552519
Comments: 15
Kudos: 45





	mission success

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #3: "Am I too late?" (That is me cutting it kind of close to your deadline for accepting prompts. And it is also the actual prompt!) Any genre - dealer's choice.

Rhett’s out of bullets and out of luck. 

Jaw clenched, Rhett taps the magazine release, sliding it out as quietly as possible and sticking the empty magazine in his tac belt. The clip almost slips from his bloodied hands--there’s a bullet lodged deep in the meat of his shoulder, and every tiny movement sends pain rippling down the length of his arm. 

Overhead, the lights cut out, and Rhett is plunged into darkness. 

_Fuck._

With a whine and hum, dim emergency lights kick in, drenching the warehouse in shades of red. There are too many shadows, too many dark spots where enemies could be hiding. 

He’s shaking with adrenaline, and fear. 

Fear that he’s not going to make it in time. 

Rhett had been against Link coming along on this mission. Link’s a hacker, a computer wizard, not a field agent. He’s the guy who sits in a secure base and remotely opens doors for Rhett. Hell, he hadn’t even known how to fire a gun before yesterday, when Rhett had taught him on the fly as they were being chased out of the city.

Admittedly though, Rhett wouldn’t have made it this far on his own without Link. Breaking into the Beast’s lair had required hacking through dozens of layers of digital security, essentially opening a locked door from the inside, and that’s where Link’s expertise had kicked in.

Rhett knows his way around a Kalashnikov and can assemble a Walther PPK in forty-three seconds flat with a blindfold on, but he’s been locked out of his own email address more times than he can count. Technology is not his strong suit--it’s why Stevie had paired them together on missions in the first place. 

In the last five years of working together, Rhett and Link have established a--well, _friendship_ isn’t quite the right word. More like a working relationship. A relationship where Link teases him mercilessly for being a luddite, and Rhett mouths back off at him about not being able to fire a gun or throw a punch. Stevie’s reprimanded them more than once about bickering over the comms. They have to focus on the mission, dammit. They can’t be arguing over the merits of Bojangles fries versus McDonalds’ fries. 

But despite their constant banter, they’ve made something of a name for themselves in the espionage world. Rhett and Link, an unstoppable duo, bringing down syndicates all over the world and making it look easy. 

So maybe that’s where things had gone wrong. They’d gotten too confident. Forgotten to watch each others backs and scrub the targets painted there by their enemies. 

But this mission was supposed to be _easy._ Go in. Disable their weapons and bring the codes back to headquarters. A simple in and out stealth mission, that had immediately gone downhill the second they'd entered the Beasts' hideout. They must have been tipped off that Rhett and Link were coming. 

Rhett takes a deep breath, trying to steady his trembling hands. Along with his busted shoulder, he’s pretty sure he’s broken at least two ribs, because every breath feels like he’s being stabbed in the chest. 

There’s a hushed shuffle--Rhett keeps his eyes trained on the cement floor, watching a slow, lumbering shadow move in the opposite direction. 

Rhett doesn’t think, just pops up from where he’s hiding and sprints the other way. 

The enemy lets out a startled grunt, and Rhett ducks and rolls as a barrage of bullets strikes the wall behind him. 

Stealth isn’t an option anymore. But he’s going to make it work. He has to. For Link.

The three remaining enemies catch up to him in the stairwell of the second floor of the building. He kicks one of them down the stairs, hears the sickening crunch of skull on cement, and just barely catches himself on the handrail in time to avoid the same fate. 

He’s terrible at hand to hand combat, relies on speed and stealth more than brute strength. He’s agile, but the staircase is narrow and steep, and his options are limited to falling down the stairs and cracking his head open, or trying to fight his way out. It was never supposed to come to this. 

He blocks a hit and takes a solid punch in the gut, even as he tries to run again. It’s not about winning; it’s about survival. His body is singing with pain, agony in every labored breath as he leaps the steps three at a time. 

The taller of the henchmen catches up to him and kicks him to his knees, raising his fist. Rhett braces himself for it, but it doesn’t do him much good--the resulting punch to the head sinks him into blissful darkness.

***

Blood. 

He can taste blood, the sharp tang of it metallic and bitter. 

The cement floor underneath his cheek is cold, and unforgiving. For one ephemeral moment, Rhett’s reminded of the time he and Link had gone undercover in Reykjavik, and hidden in the snow for hours, waiting for their mark. They'd ended up huddled together for warmth, Link's breaths warm against Rhett's neck. It was the closest they'd ever been. The closest Link's lips had ever been to Rhett's skin, the inch of space between them sparking with electricity. Or perhaps it was static, from the cold.

His vision clears a little and he blinks, hard, choking back nausea as the world tilts unsteadily. 

“Rhett!!” 

He winces away from the noise. There are hands in his hair, gentle, but even the light motion sends dull pain echoing through his skull. He closes his eyes again, wishing for the cool darkness to return. 

He’d had a dream, before the cold one...he can’t remember what it was about, but there’d been sand, crashing waves, and bright blue eyes. A beach, sparkling waters stretching on for miles. Skin that tasted like salt, and a smile that had warmed him down to his toes. 

“God, Rhett,” the voice above him whispers, though it sounds suspiciously like a sob, “thought I’d lost you.” 

“Can’t get rid of me that easy,” Rhett hears himself mumble. He’s not sure why, but it seems important to say that, and reassure whoever it is that he’s going to be okay. 

“Jerk. You know, you don't always have to win every fight,” the voice says, that strange hiccup-sob again, but there’s no heat behind the words. 

_Obviously didn't win this one,_ Rhett wants to say, but the words get caught in his throat. 

It takes a gargantuan effort, but Rhett manages to force his eyelids open and focus on the voice. 

The first thing he sees is blue eyes. The same eyes from the dream. _Link._

“You’re--” is as far as Rhett gets before his stomach turns. He convulses, rolling to the side so he can gag up a thin string of blood and spit. 

Link’s hands are on him again, gentle, cradling his head. 

“Am I too late?…” Rhett croaks. He wonders if this means they're both going to die, because he's singlehandedly failed the mission. Or maybe they're already dead. If this is heaven, though, it sucks, and he would like a refund. At least Link exists in this heaven. That’s all he really needs, anyway, 

“A little,” Link says, "but it's alright. You have an excuse. They roughed you up pretty bad. Think they broke my ankle, but you’re in worse shape than I am.”

“Ankle?” Rhett mumbles back. A flicker of anger sparks in his gut. _Someone hurt Link._ But he's too exhausted to do anything about it, and that fact makes him feel worse. 

“Is this how you guys in the field feel _all_ the time? I feel like... _terrible_ , dude,” Link mutters. 

Rhett nods and shifts to try and sit up, but stops immediately, crying out in pain. It feels like someone’s staked an ice pick through his chest. 

“Easy, brother!” Link says, worry thick in his voice, “they hurt you pretty bad. Gosh, you’re bleeding a lot.” 

Rhett knows the noises that are coming out of his mouth right now are things he’ll probably be embarrassed by later, but he’s in too much pain to care. 

His vision is clearing up, at least. When he glances up again, there’s only one of Link instead of two of him. Link is pale and a little peaky--considering the circumstances, he’s doing a lot better than Rhett would have expected him to. 

And also, Link’s not wearing glasses. Rhett doesn’t think he’s ever seen him without glasses. He's handsome. Which probably isn't the appropriate thing to be thinking, when he should be trying to plan their escape, but he can't help it. If he's going to die, at least he's got a pretty view. 

“There you are,” Link says, smiling down at him. There’s blood in his teeth, and a nasty cut on his cheek that’s probably going to scar. But he’s _alive._

“Gotta...we gotta get out of--” Rhett tries.

“Shh, shh, I know. Listen, Rhett. Don’t panic, okay?” Link says, voice wavering a little. Rhett’s brain is too stuffed with cotton to interpret what Link’s trying to say, and whatever he’s going to say probably isn’t that important because the henchmen could come back at anytime and kill them both. "You just have to trust me." 

“Link, we need...to get out--”

Link swoops down and firmly plants his lips against Rhett’s. 

Rhett freezes. 

_Holy shit_ Link is _kissing him_. 

Link. Is _kissing._ Him.

This means he’s for sure dead, or dreaming. He’s been dreaming about kissing Link for _years_. Ever since their fourth mission together in Italy, when Link had worn that bespoke tuxedo like a second skin, and flirted his way into getting the access codes to a secure vault. Or maybe it was when they'd celebrated their mission success later that week, and Link had pouted at him from behind the rim of a wine glass at a fancy restaurant in Rome underneath the twinkling stars. 

For all the gun fights Rhett’s been in, he’s never been able to gather up the courage to ask for a kiss from Link.

Link presses harder, lips moving insistently, tongue lapping at the seam of Rhett’s lips--

\--Rhett opens his mouth to let Link slip his tongue in--

\--there’s something round, and small being slid into his mouth. Like a metal tic tac mint. Link’s pushing it into Rhett’s mouth with his tongue. 

Rhett nearly chokes on whatever it is. 

Link pulls away quickly, cheeks a little flushed while Rhett tries to process what the fuck just happened.

_Link just kissed him._ Link kissed him, and it tasted like metal and blood. 

“Well. I’ve been waitin’ a while, to do that,” Link warbles, blushed pink. Without his glasses on his eyes are so blue, and his pupils so dark, and wide. He’s breathing a little heavy, lips red and shiny with spit. “Timing coulda been better.” 

It takes a second, and then something in Rhett’s brain clicks, remembering the object in his mouth. The shape and weight of it. They’ve been trained on how to use it, meant for emergencies only. 

Link grins down at him, showing teeth, and Rhett sees it--he’s got a mint of his own, tucked up where his first molar should be. 

“I was waitin’ for you to show up. Didn’t wanna leave you behind,” Link drawls. Rhett’s so relieved he could kiss him again, but both of their mouths taste like blood. Sometime between breaking into the warehouse and getting the crap kicked out of him on that staircase, Rhett’s own device had been knocked out of his mouth. He’s a terrible spy--he hadn’t even noticed. 

“ _I’m_ supposed to be the one savin’ _you,_ ” Rhett says. In his mouth, he can feel the little device warming up, registering the sound and wavelengths of his voice, identifying him. Once it does, they’ll be able to destroy the device, and it’ll send an emergency flare to Stevie with their location. 

“Ain’t the first time I’ve had to come in the 11th hour and save your sorry behind,” Link says, smirking. “You don’t ever get to give me crap for being a tech nerd, ever again.” 

Behind Link, Rhett can hear thundering footsteps. But the footsteps sound like they’re going in the _opposite_ direction of their cell. His confusion must show, because Link shrugs. 

“Might have scrambled the key to access their servers, and destroyed their plans for world domination. Really, they shouldn’t keep everything in the cloud, it’s not secure.” 

_Holy shit._

They did it. _Link_ did it.

Rhett laughs, and doesn’t even care that each chuckle jostles his broken ribs. He’s crying and he’s not sure if it’s because he’s relieved or in so much pain that his mind doesn’t know what to do other than laugh uncontrollably. 

Link clocks this, frowning, brows furrowing.

“C’mon brother. On the count of three, we bite down. Gotta bite hard, now. If we time it right, there will be a little bird, waiting right outside this cell to fly us back home. Might have called in reinforcements while you were having a little fire fight downstairs.” 

A helicopter. Link had time to dismantle their evil plans, and also _call Stevie for help._ She already knows they’re in trouble, they just need to destroy the devices in their mouths to let her know where they are in the building. 

_God_ , Rhett loves Link so goddamn much.

“Cabo…” Rhett whispers. Then, he closes his eyes. 

“What?” Link says, voice cracking. 

Rhett’s listened to Link on the comms for the last five years, could pick him out of a lineup by the timbre of his voice. He can tell just by Link’s voice that he’s anxious. But Rhett knows that they’re going to be okay. They’re going to be just fine. And just like that, he feels the fight leak out of him, darkness crowding the edges of his vision.

“Cabo...I wanna go to the beach...tell Stevie,” Rhett says, and then bites down as hard as he can on the mint. It flattens in his mouth like aluminum foil. 

Link takes the destroyed metal out of Rhett’s mouth. There’s commotion happening outside the walls of their cell, shouts and blasts, the low and telltale _thump thump thump_ of chopper blades, shaking the walls.

“Cover your ears!” Link yells, and Rhett barely gets his hands up to cover his head before the world thunders, and flashes white. 

***

Everything’s white when he opens his eyes. The sun washes out the sand, the waves, the horizon. 

The insistent breeze tastes like the ocean, and it ruffles his hair. He can hear the gulping calls of seagulls swooping low through the air, fighting for fish in the water. 

He’s warm. Contentment settles over him, easy and slow. Sometimes, it's hard to rationalize to his panicked body that he's not in danger anymore. He doesn't like the word PTSD, doesn't like that any small noise raises goosebumps on his skin. Doesn't like that he gets nightmares. 

But he's getting better. He feels good right now, so he focuses on that. The sand. The waves. The horizon. 

“Brought you this.” 

Rhett squints, turning his head--there’s Link, acres of tanned skin golden underneath the sun. A pina colada in each hand, complete with a colorful little cocktail umbrella daintily stuck on top with a cherry. 

“Courtesy of Stevie,” Link says, by way of explanation. He hands a glass to Rhett before taking a hearty gulp from his own. 

The glass is cool against Rhett’s hand, and the drink is fruity and sweet. Hard to tell that there’s any rum in there at all. 

“That’s all we get? A pina colada in exchange for saving the world?” Rhett says, sitting up a little in his lounge chair. The motion pulls at his ribs and he falls back with a gasp--he’s still healing from everything he put his body through. By some stroke of luck, Link managed to get away relatively unscathed, with nothing but a sprained ankle, and a cut on his face. 

“Better than nothin’, right?” Link says. “Oh, and. Don’t finish that whole thing, ain’t supposed to be drinking while you’re on pain meds.” 

Rhett shrugs, sucking down half his drink in one gulp. His liver’s been through worse. 

“If it’s on Stevie’s dime, I’ll take five more,” Rhett says. 

Link rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. He leans down, pressing a kiss against Rhett’s lips. He tastes like pineapple, coconut, and sunblock. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to being able to do this. Sometimes he wonders if he died, back there in that cell. But the sun is warm on his skin, and Link’s smile is crooked in all the right places, and he thinks even God wouldn't be able to conjure up a dream so sweet. 

“You know what? You’re right. Maybe next time she’ll send us somewhere nice instead. Why aren’t there any assignments in, like. Cuba, or something.” 

“Think I’ll pass on Cuba,” Rhett says.

“You’re right. Don’t wanna start another missile crisis.” 

Link gently crawls into Rhett’s chair--the lounge chair is definitely not designed to hold two large men, but they make it work. Link is mindful about Rhett’s injuries, ginger in the way he drapes himself over Rhett, making sure not to put undue pressure on the sore parts of him. 

Rhett kisses Link’s temple. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs. Link snorts, nestling himself in close to Rhett’s side. 

“Well, didn’t think you’d ever make the first move. You’ve got the balls to kill men with your bare hands, but you couldn't kiss me first?” 

Rhett snorts. “Wasn’t talkin’ about that.” 

“But I’m right though. Would you have gotten around to confessin' your feelings, if I hadn’t kissed you back there?” 

“Would you have kissed me if our lives hadn’t depended on it?” Rhett rebuts teasingly. He’s joking, but part of him has wondered about it, just a little. Link's flirted with him for years, but Rhett never wanted to assume it was anything more than banter. Link seemed to just have that way about him; he could probably charm venom from a snake.

Link is quiet. Rhett glances down towards him, feeling his pulse tick up a little when he finds that Link’s looking right back at him. 

Link leans in for a kiss. His lips are chilly and sweet with alcohol. 

“Yes,” Link says, easy. Rhett feels a grin spread across his face. 

“Well, then. Thanks for making the first move. And for saving us.” 

“So, how many is that now? Eleven times that I’ve saved you from mortal peril?” Link asks, settling back into Rhett’s arms. 

“Constantinople doesn’t count. I saved you, that time,” Rhett says. 

“Totally counts! You couldn't manually hot-wire that smart car, that was me!"

"We'll call it even."

"Just face it, man. You owe me," Link teases.

“If I save you next time, then we’ll be square. Deal?”

“Deal.” 

Rhett seals the promise with a soft kiss. 

He thinks of iron, and gunpowder. He thinks of salt, and sand, and the steady rolling waves that crash onto the beach. 

He thinks of how he loves Link the way a bullet loves a man’s chest, deep and to the bone. 

He pulls Link in closer, needing him, and his weight, and his warmth. Link lets him.

_I’m here,_ Link doesn’t say, but he presses his lips against Rhett’s skin all the same. _I’m here._

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thank you to [@nectarinemigraine](https://nectarine-migraine.tumblr.com) for beta-ing this, and for letting me whine at her endlessly in DMs. All remaining mistakes and creative choices are my own.

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